


We'll Meet Again

by welove1stickyboi



Category: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: my hand slipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:58:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welove1stickyboi/pseuds/welove1stickyboi
Summary: sad writer writes sad





	We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a post by losingmymindtonight on tumblr (check her out on ao3 as well she's amazing)

The graveyard is cold.

 

Tony swears as he stumbles over the frosted earth, past blackening flowers and rain-ruined cards, rubbing his hands together. His fingers are numb. He settles for shoving them deep into his coat pockets and keeping his head down low. The wind brushes against him without thought for an older man - and why should it? Tony doesn't deserve to be here.

 

The night is crystal clear. Clouded breath is huffed into the frigid air, past the thick scarf. Stars are needle pricks in the rich fabric of the sky, some unearthly light shining through them. In the distance, a bird calls. Wind whispers through the grass, and ruffles the leaves of the trees, almost as a proud father after their son’s game. There is no silence. Only quiet.

 

No. He  _ does  _ deserve to be here. This is his punishment.

 

Finally, he finds the stone. Some sort of plant is creeping its way up the wide, weather-worn side. Few gifts rest here. Anyone who would have given them had joined the receiver already.

 

Tony settles himself in front of the grave. He pulls out a chipped candle from the depths of his coat, and lights it with shaky fingers. The wax feels almost greasy underneath them. It's set down with the utmost care upon the icy stone. The tiny light casts jerking, dancing shadows across its surface. “Hey, kid.”

 

Crickets greet him. Surprise, surprise, the ground is cold underneath him too. Ice soaks through his skin and seeps into his bones, joining the ache that resides there. He almost regrets sitting down.  _ Getting old, Mr. Stark?  _ he can imagine Peter teasing. He doesn't mention this, though.

 

“They're doing okay,” he says instead, drumming an absent beat with his fingers on the ground. His lungs stretch and collapse, and he listens to them for a moment, relishing the quiet. He thinks of May, and of Ned, Michelle, those who didn't make it and those who did. He's not going split them into those categories. Those categories don't matter tonight, anyway. “They miss you.” Tony hesitates. He swallows. “I miss you.”

 

Stark men do not express their feelings. This, he has been taught, this he  _ knows _ , this is ingrained on the edges of his heart, chiselled in with metal, and ‘ _ Anthony’’ _ s, and crushed dreams. Lately, someone has been painting over the carvings, starting anew in a way that Tony didn't think was possible. And now that person is gone.

 

They had left their mark though. A single tear trickles down his cheek, and Tony smiles at it.

 

Over the fields, a clock chimes, once, twice, twelve times. He stands up, brushing any dirt off of his thighs, and pats the stone one last time, pausing to trace his fingers over the name. His voice feels weak, suddenly. “I don't - want to go.” The words are sour on his tongue, and he takes a step back once he realises, breath sharp in his throat. “I mean - you did good, kid. I’ll see you around.”

 

A single hand is raised in farewell, and Tony Stark leaves without looking back.

 

If he had, he would have seen the candle flicker a moment, and something golden arise from it, sitting on the gravestone as anyone else would a park bench. The thing swings its legs a little, and lifts a hand in return, smiling softly.

 

“See you around, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is halloween.


End file.
